


Where Shadows Prevail

by Zinneth (Zoya_Zalan)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, My Slashy Valentine, my slashy valentine 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya_Zalan/pseuds/Zinneth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a rescue mission, Haldir and Elladan discover that ancient evil has reemerged in the wilds of Rhudaur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Shadows Prevail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marchwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marchwriter/gifts).



> **Author’s Notes** : I did my best to work in a little bit of each of my recipient’s requests (see end notes for the full prompt). I apologize if anything slipped through the cracks; time worked against me. I am also the furthest thing from being a Tolkien expert, though I try to be diligent in my research. The name of the village is borrowed from a LOTR RPG because, wow, there is not much info on cities in Rhudaur. Please consider any inaccuracies creative liberty on my part. *cringe*
> 
> **Disclaimer** : J.R.R. Tolkien et al own all things related to the wonderful characters and lands of Middle Earth; I’m just borrowing. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> **Acknowledgements** : Many thanks to my awesome betae, Ignoblebard and Carol, for all their help and support. Any mistakes in the final draft are mine alone.

**T.A. 1357**

Arrogant. Privileged. Ruthlessly irresponsible.

There were a few other choice words Haldir of Lórien could have used to describe the twin perehdil of Imladris, but those four were more than adequate. He kept his scathing opinion to himself, of course, as he politely acknowledged the one who now stood beside him — Elladan, if he was reading the favored braid pattern correctly — before turning to face the esteemed Lord of Imladris himself. “Mae govannen, Lord Elrond,” he said, offering a respectful bow. “I am reporting as requested.”

Elrond approached from behind his desk, wearing the same grim expression as Lady Galadriel when she had given Haldir his orders. “Suilad, Haldir o Lórien. I appreciate your celerity in this matter. Have you been briefed?”

Haldir shook his head. “Nay, my lord. I was simply told to make haste across the Misty Mountains and offer whatever assistance you required.”

“I see.” Elrond paused, as though bracing himself.

“Ada, we are wasting time,” Elladan declared. “I can explain everything to Haldir on the way—”

Elrond held his hand up for silence. “I will _not_ have the two of you rushing headlong into this mission. There is more at stake here than you realize, ion nín.”

The sharp contours of Elladan’s face told Haldir just how tightly the younger elf was clenching his jaw. With obvious restraint, Elladan lowered his gaze and asked softly, “Perhaps I should see to our provisions then, as I am already privy to your directive?”

Acquiescence. That was unexpected. Haldir’s brow cocked ever so slightly as he observed the interaction.

Elrond inhaled deeply before answering. “You may. And Elladan?” he called when the ellon turned to leave. “Due to his extensive experience in the field, I am giving point to Haldir; you will follow his lead at all times.”

Though he could no longer see him, Haldir heard Elladan stop. Judging by the hard resolve that sparked in Lord Elrond’s eyes, he gathered another battle of wills was raging between father and son, this one silent. His assumption was proven correct when Elladan murmured a very deliberate, “Yes, my lord,” before taking his leave.

Ah, petulance. Familiar territory indeed — at least as far as Haldir was concerned. His few dealings with the sons of Elrond had not been pleasant, due in large part to their penchant for recklessness and impertinence. All manner of mayhem had erupted each and every time the twins had visited their grandparents in the Golden Wood. Lord Celeborn’s attempts to structure their time with weapons training and patrol assistance had only stirred a powerful undercurrent of irritation amongst the members of the guard, Haldir very much included. Having them around had proven dangerous on numerous occasions, and those memories alone forced him to broach a subject he would have otherwise left unsaid.

“My lord?” Haldir began. “Am I to presume this is a scouting mission?” It was the only logical explanation why he had been singled out amongst all available warriors in both elven realms. His knowledge of other cultures and languages made him a valuable asset where information gathering was concerned.

Elrond nodded, still glaring at the door his son had gone through. “In part.”

Purposely sidestepping the implications of the other’s statement, Haldir pressed forward with his argument. “I work much more efficiently, and _discreetly_ , if I am alone.”

Lord Elrond’s gaze shifted to meet his own, and Haldir saw a myriad of emotions swirling in the stormy depths. “I do appreciate that. However, I could no more stop Elladan from accompanying you than I could stop Anor from rising.”

Haldir’s other brow rose.

“You see,” Elrond continued, “the other part of this mission is a rescue. My son Elrohir has gone missing.”

The revelation hung in the air a moment before Haldir asked, “Was he traveling?”

Elrond made his way towards the window, hands clasped loosely behind his back. The gentle rays of the early morning sun only highlighted the lord’s drawn expression. “I sent him into Rhudaur with ears and eyes open, hoping to confirm troubling hearsay that had arrived with merchants from Bree. Elrohir had been eager to prove himself capable on this kind of assignment, and I...” he trailed off, turning back to Haldir, “...I had confidence enough to let him go.”

“I am quite certain your trust was well placed,” Haldir offered, wincing inwardly at the half-truth. He himself did not have the same faith in either of the peredhel twin’s abilities, and certainly not on a mission that required no small amount of patience and tact.

“Be that as it may, my son left four full moons ago, when the first blossoms of ethuil looked skyward. It will not be long before the chilled winds of iavas are upon us, and not a word of his whereabouts has reached us in more than two fortnight.”

“Rest assured we will find him, my lord. Where was his last known location?” he asked.

Elrond went to his desk and picked up a scroll, which he handed to him. Uncurling the worn parchment, Haldir read the words slowly.

_13 July  
Talugdaeri_

_It is as we feared, only worse. A singular shadow prevails in this region, the root of which eludes me. I leave for Fornost Erain at sunrise._

There was no identifying mark or name, but instead of being suspicious of the missive’s origin, Haldir allowed himself a moment of reluctant approval. It had been written in Westron script, not Tengwar, and on poorly made parchment — a far cry from the flawless vellum for which the elves were known. The only items that did stand out were the elegant letters themselves, so obviously written by one who was well schooled, though that would hardly be traceable to any one person or realm. There was nothing whatsoever to tie this directly to Elrohir or Imladris. Perhaps the young peredhel had been properly trained for a mission of such importance after all.

“Did a winged herald accompany your son?”

Elrond nodded. “A raven, specially trained to fly by night.”

“Then there is no question as to the author?”

“None at all,” the lord said. “’Tis Elrohir’s hand. If he’d been forced to write, there would be subtle but identifiable clues from him.”

Haldir took a deep breath and handed the scroll back. “A rather cryptic message.”

“Indeed. This brings me to the reason he was sent to Rhudaur in the first place — and also why I’ve issued strict orders preventing Elladan _and_ Lord Glorfindel from marching into Rhudaur territory with every last warrior we have in order to find him.”

“A singular shadow,” Haldir ventured, repeating Elrohir’s words.

Perching himself on the edge of his desk, Elrond’s gaze fell to the floor. “A group of merchants arrived mid-Gwirith — the first of the season. They told of the odd goings-on they’d witnessed while traveling through Rhudaur. The people of the wild lands, they said, were changed. Quiet; overly suspicious; fearful of striking up a simple conversation with a friendly stranger. There was a sizeable contingent of guards present as well, many more than were warranted for these tiny hamlets.

“They also spoke of an ever-present sense of evil underlying the fear, of eyes watching every move they made at all times of day and night. I was quite prepared to disregard their words of caution, except for one very important detail: they told us the Dúnedain were no longer in charge. The Hill-men were.”

Haldir blinked in surprise. “The Rhudaurian crown, usurped?”

“That is precisely what I need to know. And if so, by whom, though the obvious suspects would be one of the other breakaway kingdoms, Cardolan or Arthedain. By all counts, such news should have reached us far sooner. If the usual unrest amongst the Arnorian factions is set to escalate into retaliatory warfare just outside our borders, I’ve no wish to find out _after_ it has spilled across the Bruinen.”

“I shall be your eyes and ears, my lord,” Haldir reassured.

Elrond stood once more, grasping Haldir’s shoulder. “I do not trust Elladan to keep a level head while his brother’s fate remains uncertain. Elrohir will be his priority, and rightfully so. But I fear there might be more happening in Rhudaur than meets the eye, and I cannot help but believe Elrohir’s disappearance is related to whatever that is.”

“We will bring him home.”

“Please do,” Elrond whispered, the anguish of a helpless father clearly written in his expression.

“With your permission, we shall depart at once,” Haldir said.

“’Tis given. May Eru grant you speed and safety.”

Bowing, Haldir took his leave. The corridors of the Last Homely House were relatively empty at this early hour. Very few witnessed his purposeful gait as he made his way outside. The stables were only a short distance away, and as expected, Elladan was already there securing the last of their packs. The young elf didn’t acknowledge his presence in any way until Haldir finally spoke his name.

Elladan stopped what he was doing and turned to him. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, March-warden,” he said, his words laced with pain and bitterness. “You, with your millennia of lofty experience, fully believe my brother was incapable, that it was a mistake for him to be sent into the field in the first place.”

“I would never presume—”

Elladan interrupted, “But you do, Haldir. I see it in your eyes and in the tight lines of your mouth. You needn’t put voice to it.”

Resentment. It rang true as a crystal bell in Elladan’s tone, though Haldir was doubtful all of it was aimed in his direction. He was worried for his brother. The tension between Elladan and his father had been evident enough as well, and given that Lord Elrond had delayed the start of this mission until Haldir’s arrival, it was no wonder Elladan was in such a state. The strained relationship between them would do more harm than good on this assignment, though. They needed to work together, not against one another.

Haldir approached, deliberately keeping his gaze even and free of reproach. “We will find your brother, Elladan,” he said softly. “How he came to be in this situation is of little consequence now.”

Elladan’s eyes glistened with emotion barely kept in check. “Shall we be on our way, then?”

Haldir was mildly surprised at the other’s composure. Had the situation been reversed, with either Rúmil or Orophin in dire straits, Haldir probably wouldn’t have honored anyone else’s leadership. He would have been half-way to the Bruinen already, heedless of his father’s mandate. It was an interesting observation. Much had obviously changed since the twins last graced the Golden Wood with their antics and bravado.

“Let us ride,” Haldir told him.

Elladan turned and mounted his white steed — one that suspiciously resembled Lord Glorfindel’s renowned stallion — and headed for the Bridge of Imladris without a backward glance. Haldir released a deep breath, shaking his head as he grabbed the reins of his own horse and vaulted himself up. Moments later, he urged the mare into a full gallop, determined not to let the peredhel out of his sight until the waterfalls of Imladris welcomed them at journey’s end.

~ * ~

They crossed the Bruinen Ford at mid-day after pushing the horses past what Haldir considered acceptable speeds. Pausing to let their mounts refresh themselves in the cool water, he surreptitiously studied his companion. Elladan had been quiet all morning, though he appeared to have relaxed somewhat since their quest had finally begun. Haldir found Elladan’s dark, morose mood surprisingly unnerving. It was too far removed from what he’d come to expect from the twins, though he certainly understood the reasons for it.

The more he pondered the matter, the more Haldir realized Elladan had changed a great deal in many ways. The younger elf had grown physically since their last meeting, surpassing the March-warden’s height by nearly a finger-length. The breadth of Elladan’s chest and shoulders spoke of the human blood that sang in his veins, as well. He looked imposing, formidable. Haldir surmised the peredhel would make a worthy ally in battle should it come to that... provided his affinity for recklessly charging the enemy while shouting profanities had been tempered. Somewhat.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Elladan suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had surrounded them.

Pulled from his thoughts, Haldir refocused on their surroundings. “Of course.”

Elladan unlaced one of the packs on his steed and pulled out a ratty scroll. He gestured for Haldir to follow, the two of them crossing to a large boulder along the bank of the ford. Carefully unrolling it, Elladan laid the map down and pointed to their current location. “We are here. Talugdaeri is here, roughly two and a half leagues east of the Mitheithel River,” he said, pointing to a nondescript ink mark in the heart of Rhudaur. “In order to divert undue suspicion, I recommend we stay to the south, bypassing the vale in which the village lies. If we come round a bit and follow the river northeasterly until we spot Cameth Brin, it will appear believable that we are traveling from someplace other than Imladris.”

“And yet, we are still elves,” Haldir pointedly remarked. It was a carefully aimed verbal dart whose purpose was twofold: to test the social temperature that lay between them and to glean precisely how much the twins had been taught of covert activity. Haldir was taking no chances. Should things take a turn for the worse at some point, much would depend on the peredhel’s readiness and skill.

The young Elladan that Haldir remembered would have taken his words as a personal affront — a declaration of idiocy rather than a statement of fact. Surprisingly enough, the Elladan that stood before him now simply met his gaze quietly. Those grey eyes felt so keen upon him that Haldir had to resist the urge to fidget, something wholly unexpected.

“Yes,” Elladan finally ventured, still scrutinizing him. “Your countenance is far too pretty to pass for human, despite your stocky build.”

Haldir’s eyebrows rose. Had that been a compliment or an insult? A very neutral, “Indeed,” was all he offered in response.

“I shall think on it further,” Elladan continued. “The Hill-men of this region are simple folk — not overly astute, but they are observant. If they have taken control of the Rhudaurian throne or, more plausibly, are now under the control of an outside force, our passage _and_ the shape of our ears will not go unnoticed.”

“Not to mention the fact that they’ve seen your face before,” Haldir pointed out.

Elladan nodded. “I estimate it will take us three, perhaps four days to reach our destination if we utilize the detour. That would give us plenty of time to consider options. Is this acceptable to you, or have you a better plan?”

Compliance and cooperation. Haldir was impressed. He was also wary, waiting for the Elladan of old and his sharp, spirited tongue to resurface at any moment. “Your strategy is wise,” he said. “We should stick to the wooded lands and steer clear of the Great East Road, though. The more invisible we remain, the better our chances of success.”

“Agreed.”

When they left the ford a short time later, continuing on into Rhudaur territory, Haldir carried within him a surprising sense of optimism. It hadn’t occurred to him until then that he’d been more worried about working side by side with Elladan than about the favorable outcome of the mission itself. He would remain cautious, of course, but the air between them seemed much lighter. It was a pleasant silence that now settled around them rather than a strained one, and he very much hoped it would remain so.

~ * ~

Haldir took a bite of his lembas, relishing the honeyed flavor that was so familiar to him. The fabled waybread of the elves had been a constant companion throughout his millennia of service to the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. It was a trusted friend, one that soothed and rejuvenated, assuaging the hunger of a long day on patrol. Tonight was no different, though his surroundings were far removed from his usual environment.

Fortunately, he and Elladan had passed three uneventful days in each other’s company. They’d encountered nothing but indigenous wildlife and small clouds of pesky, biting insects as they’d traversed the wooded hills and valleys of Rhudaur. The forest had eventually thinned, making way for the rocky hillsides that marked the central part of the region. Right before nightfall, they’d spotted Cameth Brin — the Twisted Hill. The colossal outcropping of granite leaned precariously to the east, as though perched to pounce and swallow whole the next unfortunate being that wandered into its ominous shadow. It was the landmark they’d been searching for, the one that signaled the end of the first part of their journey and the beginning of the next. 

Haldir listened to the rousing chorus of crickets serenading them as he finished his meal. They were camped just inside the safety of the forest’s edge, mere hours away from Talugdaeri. Their investigation would begin in earnest on the morrow, but what would they find?

The issue of their identities also still bothered him. Haldir had rarely needed to disguise his heritage, simply preferring to remain aloof in darkened corners, watching and listening. But here, in this village, an elf had been seen — and had disappeared, quite possibly as a result of doing precisely what he’d been sent to do. That in itself was cause for great concern, as well as a change in tactics on their part. They needed to devise a plan that would allow them to move freely about the village without attracting undue attention.

Haldir was drawn from his thoughts when Elladan got up and walked to the edge of the clearing in which they’d settled. There, the peredhel stopped and whistled quietly through his teeth, a peculiar, lilting sound repeated three times. They both stilled, waiting to see if Elrohir’s winged herald would answer his call. Such birds were trained to remain near their guardians at all times while out in the field. Not unexpectedly, the only response was silence.

Haldir watched as Elladan’s expression fell, causing his own chest to tighten in sympathy. “Do not despair,” he said quietly. “We are still some distance from his last known whereabouts.”

Elladan drew a deep breath and released it with a slow hiss. “I cannot help but fret,” he said, crossing to where their horses had roamed in search of fresh blades of grass amid the moss-covered ground. He spent a few moments scratching Asfaloth’s — yes, _that_ Asfaloth’s — neck before heading back to the campfire. Lord Glorfindel had apparently insisted that Elladan take him for safety’s sake. The stallion’s presence had allowed both of them to enjoy full nights of rest rather than sharing watch duty.

“Of course you can’t help it,” Haldir affirmed, watching as Elladan sank rather gracelessly onto his bedroll, “but you should remain positive until there is good reason to believe otherwise.”

“He is alive,” Elladan was quick to point out. “I would know if he weren’t. My father confirmed it, though all he could see of Elrohir’s future was a strange, overpowering darkness.”

Haldir nodded. Lord Elrond’s prescience was well known in Lothlórien; his insight could be trusted implicitly in these matters. “That your brother yet lives after all these weeks is a powerful sign that he will see his family again,” he offered before turning to gaze at the small campfire they’d built.

Their conversation ebbed for a time, both of them lost in thought, until Haldir felt the distinct sensation of being watched. Curious, his gaze slid back to Elladan, only to find the peredhel staring intently at him. “Is something the matter?” he asked.

Elladan paused a moment before saying, “I do not remember you being this kind. You were always so staid and taciturn.”

Haldir nearly snorted in amusement, though he couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at his lips. “I do not remember you being this well behaved.”

Chucking quietly, Elladan reclined on his bedroll, lacing his hands together behind his head. “I suppose my brother and I are guilty of having caused much grief for you and the rest of the Lórien guard in our youth.”

“As I recall, much of the northern patrol wanted to hang you both, boar-tied, above a pit of poison ivy and gleefully take turns fraying the rope until you fell in.”

Elladan’s chuckle turned into a belly laugh at that. One unfortunate incident with said plant had proven that while elves were immune to the effects of its oil, peredhil were apparently not. The twins had suffered for hours while Lothlórien’s finest healers scrambled to collect enough herbs for the necessary healing poultice. It was the only time Haldir had ever laughed — privately, of course — at someone else’s discomfort.

“Ah, Haldir,” Elladan continued, shifting to look at him. “I do apologize for being a pain in your arse.”

Still grinning, Haldir inclined his head. “You are forgiven.”

Elladan’s gaze lingered, the smile on his face mirrored in his eyes. The warm regard was unexpected and caused the same fidgety urge Haldir had experienced along the shores of the Bruinen. He looked away, feeling a rare flush heat his cheeks. Sidelong glances from days past that he’d both noted and dismissed all at once suddenly stood out in sharp relief. Perhaps he was simply misinterpreting?

Grabbing his water skin, he took a deep draught before casually peering back at his companion. Elladan was still watching him, his smile gentled but still very much there — a silent acknowledgement of interest, wrapped in a blanket of respectful reticence.

Haldir swallowed thickly, his gaze once again seeking the safety of the dwindling flames in the campfire. If he were to be perfectly honest with himself, the attraction was not entirely one-sided. Elladan had always been beautiful to look upon, but the maturity he’d displayed added greatly to his allure. Here, now, on the cusp of the most dangerous part of their mission, however, any ideas of pursuing such a course were ill advised. They needed to remain focused and alert.

“Have you any further thoughts on our dilemma?” Elladan ventured.

Taking a deep breath — and very grateful that the atmosphere had shifted in a different direction — Haldir pondered the question. “Only that the most prudent course of action appears to be disguising ourselves as much as possible. I have a set of traveling clothes that are more common than the one I wear, and a leather cap that would hide my ears.”

“It is my fault we are unprepared,” admitted Elladan. “All details should have been given due consideration before we left Imladris, but I was too upset and too eager to reach Elrohir’s side. It is just as my father warned, though my ears were very much closed to him.”

Haldir turned back to the younger elf. “Lord Elrond cannot fault you for the extent of your worry, Elladan, and neither can I. If I truly believed we were not prepared enough, I would have insisted we postpone our departure. Besides,” he continued, “one of the most important attributes of a competent scout is the ability to improvise.”

Elladan looked thoughtful. “Make adjustments as circumstances change?”

“Yes,” Haldir said, “and utilize all available elements from one’s surroundings. Truth be told, I am far more concerned with masking your features than disguising my own. If Elrohir’s disappearance did in fact happen in this vicinity, should anyone recognize you, it could incite hostility under the mistaken belief that your brother has escaped whoever holds him captive.”

“Shall I remain behind, then — steer clear of the village and conduct a search of the surrounding vale on my own?”

“That would be inadvisable. We should not separate; there are too many unknown variables at work.”

Elladan absently picked at the material of his bedroll, his brow furrowed. “If we break camp at sunrise, we will easily reach Talugdaeri by Anor’s zenith. That does not leave much time to finalize a plan.”

“No... it does not,” Haldir agreed. “A viable strategy has thus far eluded both of us, but I am confident something will present itself. In my experience, these kinds of complications tend to work themselves out in unexpected ways. All we need do is keep our minds open.”

“And our hearts?” Elladan asked quietly, a renewed sparkle of hope kindling in his eyes.

Haldir was at a loss. It was clearly an invitation, one like so many others he’d received from fellow warriors over the centuries — a plea for comfort in times of hardship; a desire to ease loneliness on lengthy patrols; the desperate need of a soul torn asunder by trauma of some ilk. He’d answered each and every one of those calls with compassion and respect, giving of himself all that was needed to help heal weary bodies and spirits. Not once had he ever hesitated in the face of a heartfelt request. Until now.

“Tomorrow will be a long day. We should take our rest.” The words left Haldir’s mouth before his mind had even fully thought them through, and all at once, the damage was done.

Elladan’s warm expression slowly morphed into a heart-wrenching mixture of shock and embarrassment. His gaze slid away, flitting from point to point as he visibly struggled to regain his composure. “Of course,” he murmured. “I bid you a good night, then.”

Inwardly, Haldir fought a wave of shame so great that his eyes began to mist. Outwardly, his voice never wavered as he responded in kind before rising and crossing to his own bedroll. Elladan, who had agonized over his twin brother’s whereabouts and unknown fate for weeks... Elladan, whose relationship with his father had been strained and tested equally as long... Elladan, who had reached out, seeking a moment’s joyful reprieve from the weight of the world...

Crushed.

It was an apt description, one that applied to both of them, though for Haldir, there should have been no justification for feeling such had he acted in the best interest of both Elladan and the mission as a whole. Instead, the emotion burned a gaping hole through his chest, one that left him breathless with pain. He should have quickly made amends. He should, at the very least, have offered Elladan the comforting embrace of a friend and kind words of hope and encouragement. But he didn’t. He lay quietly, frozen by the callousness of his actions, and by his utter inability to explain them.

It was a long time before he heard Elladan settle in for the night, and even longer still before he himself fell into an exhausted slumber.

~ * ~

By the time Anor began his climb past the horizon, they were already packing up the last of their belongings. Elladan’s face was an inscrutable mask. He’d not said a word. With each moment of silence that hung between them, Haldir sank ever deeper into the pit of guilt he’d created for himself. Each time he’d tried to summon the courage to apologize for mishandling the previous night’s situation, his tongue felt numb and heavy. Paralyzed.

Securing the ties that held his bedroll aloft behind his saddle, Haldir glanced at his companion. Elladan’s movements were stiff, edgy. Clearly, he was upset, and he had every right to be. This new chasm between them could negatively affect the mission, and that was the very last thing he’d wanted. Something needed to be said.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Haldir parted his lips, determined to clear the air one way or another. “Elladan?” It came out more like a raspy whisper, but the younger elf heard.

Elladan turned to him, eyes glacial. “Yes?”

“About last night...” he began, swallowing again. It felt like there was a woolen stocking lodged in his throat. “I... I’m—”

“Must I _really_ be the one to point out that refusing a warrior’s comfort is a perfectly acceptable choice?” Elladan spat.

“Of that, I am more than aware,” Haldir told him, “but I handled it very badly—”

“Yes,” Elladan nodded, “you did — in a careless display far more worthy of the foolish youth I was when last we met!”

Haldir closed his eyes against the rancor of the words tossed back at him, head hanging in shame. That he’d wounded someone so was unacceptable in every way possible. “I beg your forgiveness, Elladan,” he whispered loudly, unable to find his voice.

He had only moments to register the sound of rustling material and footsteps before the blow hit him square in the face. Haldir staggered, losing his footing as he instinctively tried to protect his left eye from further harm while fighting against the jarring loss of equilibrium. He landed awkwardly on the spongy ground, half turned away from Elladan. Shocked beyond words, Haldir lay there a few moments, gasping, trying to assess the full extent of the damage. His eye was starting to swell shut already, and a sharp, stabbing pain punctuated the gnawing ache that enveloped that side of his face.

_I deserved that_ , he thought sadly.

When he made to get up, Elladan grabbed his tunic and hauled him to his feet. Haldir’s eyes widened when, quick as a viper, the peredhel snapped his fist back and punched him again, this time in the mouth. His bottom lip split instantly against his teeth as he fell yet again, a warm trail of blood beginning to flow down his chin.

“Ah, the mighty March-warden of Lórien,” Elladan mocked, “so aloof and proper. Tell me, do you feel anything at all, or is there no compassion inside that cold heart of yours?”

Still stunned from the blows, Haldir struggled to comprehend what was happening. A single punch had been justified, in his opinion, but this? As soon as he climbed to his feet again, Elladan was on him, only this time Haldir fought back, grabbing the peredhel roughly and swinging him around until his back connected with the nearest tree. “DARO!” he yelled. The extent of this drama was entirely unwarranted.

Elladan ignored him, butting his forehead into Haldir’s. Reeling from yet another hit, Haldir completely lost his composure. His fist flew without conscious thought, the force of the blow knocking the younger elf’s head into the jagged bark of the tree. So great was his rage that he half-dragged Elladan back towards the middle of the clearing where he offered one final testament of his wounded dignity. The sound of bone snapping punctuated the hit, leaving Elladan to collapse like a child’s rag doll.

The peredhel lay on his stomach for long moments, half-heartedly trying to prop himself up onto his forearms. Haldir couldn’t see the other’s face, but it was obvious by the location of his last blow that he’d broken Elladan’s nose. How in all of Arda had it come to this?

Elladan’s shoulders suddenly began shaking, a sound suspiciously akin to that of crying reaching Haldir’s ears. A wave of disgust overcame him, far worse than the guilt that had consumed him before. Blinking back tears that only served to irritate his wounded eye, Haldir started forward, prepared to help his companion, but he stopped short as soon as Elladan rolled himself over onto his back.

The younger elf wasn’t crying at all.

A smile pulled tightly at Elladan’s swollen lips, his laughter gaining amplitude as soon as he caught sight of him. Haldir stared in confusion, still breathing heavily from their exertions. Elladan’s face was a bloody mess that had to hurt like hell. How could he possibly find amusement in this situation?

When Elladan managed to catch his breath, he said, “Please forgive the unreasonable insult, Haldir. I could not think of any other way to incite your ire.”

“To what end?” Haldir demanded, his words slurred around his injured lip.

Elladan laughed again, his bloodshot eyes focused intently on him. “Your face isn’t so pretty any longer, March-warden, and neither is mine.”

It took a moment for the younger elf’s words to register, but once they did, Haldir sank to his knees, relief washing over him. “ _This_ is your idea of a disguise?”

It was bloody brilliant.

“We will certainly stand out when we arrive in the village, but if we lose the elvish braidwork and cover our ears, I doubt we will be correctly identified.”

Haldir absently wiped at the blood around his mouth. “You might have warned me,” he groused, only mildly upset at his companion’s logic.

Still chuckling, Elladan used the corner of his cloak to try and stem the bleeding from his nose. “Would you have stood still for me while I pummeled your face to a pulp?”

At that, Haldir couldn’t help but laugh. It felt good to do so after the stress of the past few days. “No,” he finally admitted. “I could not have done so. You have my sincerest admiration for willingly enduring my wrath.”

Elladan’s smile began to fade. “I would willingly endure far worse if it would help me find my brother.”

“Of course,” Haldir whispered, still struggling to comprehend what his companion must be feeling. A similar circumstance had never befallen his own siblings, and he prayed to Eru that it never would.

Standing up, Haldir crossed to Elladan on legs that were none too stable. They’d both taken and delivered quite a beating. He kneeled beside the other, gently smoothing back his dark matted hair. “Are you well?”

Elladan nodded, pulling himself to a sitting position. “I will survive.”

“These injuries will begin to fade far sooner than would a human’s,” Haldir noted. “We should be prompt in our departure if we wish to take full advantage.”

“Agreed.”

They spared precious minutes to wash their wounds in a nearby stream and complete their appearances. With his thick hair pulled back over his ears and lying in a single braid down his neck — not to mention a swollen nose the size of Lady Galadriel’s mirror — Elladan in no way resembled his missing twin. Haldir mussed his loosened hair with muddy fingers before donning the ridiculous leather hat he’d found nearly a century before while on another mission. The side flaps easily covered his ears. Leaving the evidence of their battle splattered all over their clothing for authenticity’s sake, Haldir and Elladan finally mounted their horses and headed out.

~ * ~

The village of Talugdaeri was large, gloomy, and surprisingly dilapidated. The ground was a mixture of worn rubble, dirt, and wheel ruts — no cobblestones of any kind. There were numerous wooden and stone buildings, both varieties of which looked deteriorated to an alarming degree. An ashen grey hue dominated all things, from the color of the dwellings to the mud smeared on the faces of the inhabitants. It spoke rather loudly of the health and liveliness of the community, and did little to reassure the two travelers who walked through the village’s gates just before midday.

After much consideration, Haldir and Elladan had wisely chosen to leave their horses hidden just beyond the mouth of the vale. While they might be unrecognizable as elves, the fine breeding of their steeds would have marked them in any number of undesirable ways. So, when they finally ambled into the village, it was under their own power, neither of them attempting to disguise the obvious pain they were in.

As predicted, people stared. How could they not? Haldir’s entire face was a bluish-purplish bruise, his left eye completely swollen shut, and Elladan, who was limping, looked very much like he’d lost a battle with a stone troll. A few of the settlers chuckled outright at their appearance, offering one or the other a sympathetic grin. It was precisely the kind of misguided impression they’d wanted to create — something to disarm suspicion and divert attention away from any idle speculation regarding their heritage. They were simply two travelers who had encountered misfortune along the way and were looking for a place to rest their weary selves.

When they reached the center of the village, they were shocked to see a sizeable contingent of battle-ready warriors marching down the thoroughfare. Many sported tattooed faces and wild snarls of hair, easily marking them as Hill-men, but there were others amongst them, men with darker skin who hid their faces behind full helmets. Haldir and Elladan immediately backed out of the way, watching from the sidelines along with the rest of the inhabitants until the detail had passed from view.

“Are you at war?” Haldir asked the elder man who stood beside him.

The man trained weary but cautious eyes upon him and said, “Hard to tell, ain’t it?” before hobbling away.

Haldir glanced at Elladan, who wore a similarly troubled expression. Neither of them had expected this kind of military presence. There were very few reasons why one would amass an army in this region — none of them good. It certainly seemed as though Lord Elrond’s information had been accurate.

They took their midday meal of jerky and cram while sitting atop the remnants of a battered wagon left to the elements in one of the quieter parts of town. They ate slowly, gently maneuvering around tender skin, while observing the people of Talugdaeri. The residents went about their business quietly, most of them keeping gazes firmly fixed on the ground in front of them. There was no bustling market, no merchants hawking their wares, no music or laughter floating through the air. The atmosphere was oppressive with a distinct undertone of fear. And wherever they looked, armed Hill-men guards wandered about, inspecting every detail of their surroundings with far more care than was needed in such a remote community. Absolutely nothing about this made any sense.

“Did you notice the few swarthy-skinned warriors who marched earlier?” Elladan finally ventured, keeping his voice low.

A grin tugged at the corner of Haldir’s mouth. “Astute observation.”

“Never have I seen such in this region.”

“They are not from here,” Haldir verified. “Their kind dwell east of the Sea of Rhûn.”

Elladan’s brow furrowed. “What interest would they have in such a faraway land?”

Haldir took a long drink from his water skin when one of the guards passed by. The Hill-man’s wild eyes fixed on them for long moments, assessing. They avoided eye contact with him, following the example of the village residents, and eventually, the guard moved away.

“Some fifty years ago,” Haldir began, “I ventured north from Bree, through Arthedain. It was there I first heard rumors of a tribe of humans who had taken up residence in the northern lands beyond the Ettenmoors. Their skin, it was said, carried the same tinge as the Easterlings of old.”

Elladan remained quiet for a time, obviously digesting this new information. “The Hill-men are not well organized enough to take this region on their own; there must be a driving force behind their power play. Could it be these humans from the north?”

“In order for that to be plausible, their numbers and influence should be far larger than what is evidenced here. More than likely, they are allied with a greater dominion.”

“Arthedain,” Elladan murmured without any hesitation.

Haldir nodded. “That would be the most reasonable assumption given its location.”

“And if Arthedain has overtaken Rhudaur with the help of the northerners and Hill-men...”

“...their next logical target would be the only remaining Arnorian successor kingdom — Cardolan,” finished Haldir.

Elladan glanced around, releasing a deep breath. “That battle would take place far too close to home.”

“That is precisely why your father needs every bit of information we can glean while we search for your brother.”

They finished eating in silence, and then resumed their tour of the village. Brief greetings were offered to several of the local residents, all of whom seemed incredibly reluctant to speak at all, even when Haldir and Elladan politely requested directions. It was unnerving to say the least.

Around mid-afternoon, Haldir and Elladan called upon the local constabulary under the false pretense of reporting the small band of “thieves” that had accosted them in the neighboring wilderness. It lent credence to their injuries and allowed them to assess how and where prisoners in Talugdaeri were kept. As it turned out, the holding cells were in plain view just inside — all of them filled with forlorn citizens who in no way resembled miscreants of any kind. Considering the overzealous tendencies of the guards in the village, this was not surprising. After inspecting that particular building inside and out, they determined there was not a hidden level beneath. Elrohir was not being held there.

They continued to wander, stopping often to rest and observe. A small family passed by them at one point, all of their belongings clearly loaded onto their wagon. They were not treated kindly by the Hill-men guards. Both verbal and physical offense were offered, the scuffles lasting as long as it took for the horses to push through until they were at a full gallop. Much to their horror, a small group of the Hill-men gave chase on horseback, weapons raised and ready. With each person who escaped, there was greater risk of the activities in this region spreading to the wrong ears.

“This is deeply disturbing,” Elladan whispered to him as they watched helplessly. “Will we meet with the same resistance when we take our leave?”

Haldir had no good answer, and thus remained silent.

At dusk, they made their way to the village’s only inn, Barrel O’ Trolls, and secured a room. It was apparently the only one available, despite the fact that the taproom downstairs was nearly empty. They dropped off their haversacks and bedrolls at the room, fully expecting they would be ransacked in their absence, and went back down in search of food and drink.

Elladan appeared to be slipping rather easily into character, offering those few they passed a jovial greeting. Most simply stared, sporting wary expressions. Haldir played the part of someone too miserable to worry about much of anything, which really wasn’t that far from the truth. His head pounded mercilessly from the beating he’d taken, and his right hand felt more than a little tender from that which he’d dished out in return.

They took a small table in the center of the taproom, both to appear sociable and also to afford them the best vantage point from which to listen in on what was being discussed. As it had grown darker out, more patrons had arrived, though the atmosphere was anything but lively. Conversations amongst the residents were hushed, and even Haldir and Elladan, with their superior hearing, had difficulty making sense of many of them. One thing that was easy to discern was how fearful everyone was. More than one whispered discussion involved ardent wishes to pack up and leave the area. A woeful state of affairs dominated in Talugdaeri, and Haldir did not blame her people at all for feeling that way.

A short time later, a serving wench brought out bowls of pottage and mugs of watered-down ale for their meal. Haldir stared at the menacing fare, absently stirring his spoon around the unidentifiable chunks that dotted the thick stew. He couldn’t tell whether they were meat or vegetable matter. Bracing himself, he took a small sip, his senses on full alert for any telltale signs of poison or other nefarious substances, and was pleasantly surprised at how palatable — and seemingly benign — the mixture was. Carefully, he tucked into his food, mindful of his injured lip, which stung very badly with each quaff of ale he took.

Elladan ate with abandon, inhaling his portion like the boorish human he was pretending to be. The peredhel signaled for another ale long before Haldir was even half finished with his, making quite the show of belching and breaking wind. It was all Haldir could do not to laugh at the antics, hiding grins behind hands and mug. The younger elf was well suited to this circumstance, his adaptability being a definite advantage. That impressed Haldir greatly. At this point, he was quite confident that both twins had been very well trained for field work. Unfortunately, that did not bode well for Elrohir’s situation at all.

“Far corner, off to the right,” Elladan suddenly whispered to him in between mouthfuls.

Haldir kept eating for long moments before looking up. When he did, he purposely kept his gaze away from that area of the room. In his peripheral view, he noted a large man sitting by himself. “Watching us?” he whispered back.

“Like a hawk.”

The weight of the sword sheathed at his waist offered Haldir some measure of comfort, but the thought of enduring another fight of some kind made his aching body cringe in horror. Before he could even consider possible scenarios, the man stood and began to move towards them. Haldir made eye contact, assessing. The human was huge — taller than Elladan, and probably twice as broad. His dark hair was an unruly mess, and his eyes were hard. Dangerous.

The man approached slowly, with all the confidence of one who felt perfectly in control of the situation at hand. All conversations had ceased in the taproom, everyone watching expectantly. Even though Haldir was looking straight at him, the man’s gaze was fixated on Elladan.

For his part, the younger elf appeared to be perfectly calm. Elladan slowed his eating, chewing his last bite for long moments while he watched the human stop right across from them. Hands the size of a warg’s paw came down hard on the table as the man leaned over Elladan, a tactic dripping with raw intimidation.

“You look like some’n who don’t back down from a challenge,” the man said. His breath could have stripped paint.

Slowly, Elladan stood, showing off his own imposing height. “You’d be correct, _friend_ ,” he stated.

The younger elf was playing his part well. They were pretending to be human, and this, unfortunately, was a very human way of responding to such a threat. For that, Elladan could not be faulted. Haldir only hoped they could subdue the man before anyone got seriously hurt.

The man pushed himself back up to a standing position, a greedy smile spreading across his weathered face. Craning his neck around, he suddenly yelled, “Ingrith!” towards the back of the room. A moment later, the serving wench scrambled out from behind the bar, carrying a tray filled with large mugs.

All at once, the atmosphere in the taproom turned euphoric, the people cheering and digging through belt pouches and pockets for coin. Haldir spared a glance at Elladan, who met his gaze with one of surprised amusement. A drinking game? Haldir followed his instincts, laughing and pounding the table with his uninjured hand.

Rolling up his sleeves, Elladan sat back down and pushed the rest of his dinner out of the way. The man followed suit. They both grabbed a mug, clinking them together in the obligatory “cheers” gesture that set the game in motion. And then they were off, each of them chugging with amazing speed and endurance. Ingrith was forced to run back and forth to the bar to keep up with them, but she did so with a grin on her face — one mirrored by the innkeeper who was pouring ale non-stop. Elladan would not be affected in the least by the spirits, of course, but Haldir hoped the younger elf would let the man win all the same. Just looking around the room at all the smiles and laughter, Haldir understood this was about the most joy the people of Talugdaeri experienced in these dark days. They deserved this moment.

Elladan, who had already consumed several mugs prior to the start of the game, began to waver slightly after drinking roughly ten more. The man kept right on going, wearing a gleeful expression. Haldir cheered his companion on, slapping his back in encouragement, and for a time Elladan pretended to rally to the cause, downing another seven mugs in quick succession. But then he slowed, blinking lazily as he pretended to reach for a mug that was nearly half an arm’s length in the other direction. Haldir pushed the drink over, still howling at Elladan to keep going.

That last mug proved to be Elladan’s undoing. After drinking the ale — half of which dribbled down his chin — the peredhel slammed the mug down, closed his eyes, and slowly slid sideways into Haldir, feigning unconsciousness. The whole room exploded at that point, the cheers rising to a deafening level. Their champion stood, holding two empty mugs high above his head in victory.

Haldir couldn’t help but laugh at the show. He’d never felt such elation during a scouting mission before. He was so used to remaining aloof, purposely separated from the goings-on around him, that he’d not considered how rewarding it could be to blend in. What a learning experience this was proving to be.

Since he couldn’t very well finish his meal with an ‘inebriated’ Elladan hanging all over him, he reluctantly stood, wrapping his companion’s arm around his neck and pulling him up. Elladan woke himself somewhat, offering a half-hearted attempt to walk while leaning heavily on Haldir. They received enthusiastic back slaps from just about everyone they passed on their way to the rickety staircase that led up to their room. The steps creaked precariously as they ascended, but Elladan never wavered in his performance. It had to look perfectly authentic.

At long last, they reached their door, which swung open on rusty hinges. Though their belongings looked untouched, someone had obviously been in there, as a lantern had been lit by the washbasin. Haldir immediately hauled Elladan to the small bed that more closely resembled a bench and laid him down. The younger elf began to snore softly, continuing the show. Both of them had heard the patter of light footsteps following them on the way up. Moments later, Ingrith appeared in the doorway carrying a pitcher of fresh water and a plate of cheese and bread. She smiled as she handed them over.

Haldir inclined his head. “Thank you.”

“Tell your friend not to feel bad,” she told him. “No one can out-drink Lander.”

Grinning, Haldir said, “He is a daunting opponent.”

She chuckled, but her smile quickly faded. Tucking back a lock of her hair, she quickly glanced down the hallway and then took a half-step into their room. “We’ll help you get out,” she whispered. “We have a tunnel. It starts here.”

Haldir set the pitcher and food aside. “They are not letting anyone leave?”

She shook her head. “Every day is worse than the last.”

“But what of the rest of you? You should all leave, as well.”

“We will,” Ingrith assured him with a smile. “One day soon, the sun will rise and there will be no one left for them to terrorize. Too many of us are still held. For their safety, we are waiting.”

Haldir thought about the family they’d seen earlier in the day. “Some have not been so patient.”

Tears welled in Ingrith’s eyes. “They knew the risks of what they tried. We cannot help them now, but we can help you, as we have others who’ve wandered here.”

“Others?” That got his attention.

“A few.”

Haldir decided to risk asking the question that burned on the tip of his tongue. “We are here searching for a friend. An elf.”

Her eyes lit up. “Tall, with dark hair? He was the first we took through the tunnel.”

Relief coursed so strongly through Haldir that he felt his legs waver. He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. “Oh, thank Eru,” he murmured.

Ingrith glanced warily down the hall again. “I must get back,” she told him, “but we will come for you before dawn. Be ready.”

Haldir nodded, watching as she hurried away. He closed the door after her so that Elladan could end his ruse. When he looked to the bed, Elladan was already sitting up, head buried in his hands. His shoulders shook with emotion. Haldir quickly crossed the small room, sat down, and pulled his companion into a warm embrace. Guilt once again plagued him as he held Elladan, allowing the younger elf to release his profound relief. He should never have turned Elladan away the night before. He’d been selfish, hesitant to open up to one who had been such a source of anger and turmoil in his past. And yet, that youth he remembered had grown into a capable, intelligent, and compassionate adult who had earned Haldir’s admiration several times over already.

“I am so sorry, Elladan,” he whispered.

Elladan pulled back, confusion apparent in his tear-stained eyes. “Why do you feel thusly? We have proof of Elrohir’s safe passage; you should be happy.”

Haldir squeezed his companion’s shoulders. “Of that, I am elated. What I refer to is my misconduct last evening.”

“You’re still on about that?” Elladan asked, a smile touching his lips. “You are forgiven, Haldir. You were last night already.”

“You deserved better, and I had no good reason to turn you away.”

Elladan’s grin widened. “Yes, well... I got to take my frustration out on your face, so I’d say we are even.”

Chuckling, Haldir gently wiped away the last of Elladan’s tears. “If I didn’t feel so miserable, I would eagerly spend this night making love with you.”

“We will have our time,” Elladan countered, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Someday.”

The pleasure they shared the rest of the night was innocent and uncomplicated. They sat on the bed, cradled against one another while they enjoyed the rest of their meal, quietly discussing where they would travel from here. The water Ingrith had provided was cool and refreshing on their wounds, which Haldir could tell were already starting to heal. Donning fresh clothes and a recharged sense of alacrity, they finally dimmed the lantern and fell into reverie safely wrapped in each other’s arms.

~ * ~

As promised, the innkeeper and Ingrith — his daughter, it turned out — came for them in the early morning darkness. There was no lantern or candle to light their way; they made their escape in pitch blackness, navigating the hall and steps by feel and sound alone. Deep in the recesses of the cellar, a door was opened and the smell of dank earth engulfed them. Down they went on a rope ladder, similar to those that hung from telain in the Golden Wood, until they reached the bottom. From there, they crawled through a roughly hewn earthen passage lined with roots and other matter that angled sharply downward. It was horribly dark. Suffocating. They’d been told to keep going, and to watch for when the tunnel turned to the right. When that came to pass, they immediately saw the welcoming light of a torch in the distance.

The passage bottomed out into a natural cavern deep beneath Talugdaeri. A tired-looking but friendly man awaited them. He guided them through the subterranean network for what seemed hours, climbing in some places and descending in others. The grotto appeared endless. Just as Haldir was contemplating the fact that they might actually be lost, the man led them up a stepped incline that had obviously been carefully crafted. When they reached the very top, the man turned to them.

“That rock, right there?” he pointed. “It’s a lot lighter than it looks. And very loose. Give it a good shove, and you’re free, but be sure to replace it once you’re out. Good luck to ye.”

Haldir and Elladan murmured their gratitude, watching as he slid back into the depths, the torchlight fading away. As disturbed as he was by these people’s oppression, Haldir also couldn’t help but marvel at their ingenuity and will to overcome that which had infused their lives with such fear. They would escape and survive, of that he was certain.

“Pumice,” Elladan whispered to him as they both felt for the rock in question.

Tiny holes riddled the surface, marking their target. Together, they heaved, the mass giving way easily, as promised. Within moments, Arnor’s rays bathed them in the welcome light of late morning. Using old roots as hand and footholds, they climbed out of the cavern into the rocky grasslands of the vale. Their egress point was right next to two large boulders that effectively blocked their activity from view. In the distance, Talugdaeri was but a dot that nearly blended in with the rest of the landscape. Quickly, they put the piece of pumice back into place.

“We should eat something before continuing,” Haldir suggested. They hadn’t taken the time to do so earlier.

Elladan nodded, sitting down next to the boulder farthest from the village. He pulled out his water skin and pouch of travel rations, and dug in, leaving Haldir to scan the area.

There was nobody even remotely close to where they were. The northernmost edge of the woodlands was roughly a quarter of a league to the east, but there was no discernible movement happening in that direction. To the south lay the village, from which they already knew nothing escaped. More rocky grassland and numerous hills dotted the northern view, and to the west...

Haldir froze. There, perched on one of the ancient, gnarled branches of a dead yew tree not twenty meters from their location, was a large black bird whose head was comfortably nestled under its wing. Sleeping. In the middle of the day.

“Elladan,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off the bird. When he knew the younger elf had looked up, he continued, “Signal the winged herald.”

Elladan shot to his feet, eager eyes searching in the direction Haldir was looking. When the quiet, melodious call floated through the air, the raven reacted instantly, head lifting in the direction of the sound. Moments later, it was airborne, heading straight for Elladan, who rushed to wrap an extra layer of cloth around his forearm before it landed.

“You, my friend,” Elladan cooed to the bird, “will receive a king’s portion of grubs on your return.”

Haldir smiled, marveling at the raven’s devotion. The bird had stayed at its post, waiting diligently for more than a full moon’s rotation. And its presence here meant only one thing: Elrohir was nearby.

He left Elladan to care for the herald and walked towards the decrepit yew, scanning the steep hillside beyond as it opened to him through the branches. He was nearly half-way to the tree when he spotted the bulwark’s tower, nestled amongst the craggy heights near Cameth Brin. He was so engrossed in his examination that he didn’t hear Elladan’s approach until the other was nearly beside him.

“A fortress,” the younger elf remarked, still carrying the raven.

Haldir glanced at him. “That is someplace your brother would not have overlooked.”

Elladan shook his head slowly, staring at the imposing edifice. “He is there.”

Looking back across the distance, Haldir said, “We will stay here until darkness falls, and then investigate.”

The end of their journey seemed close at hand, but Haldir knew by the twinge in his gut that what lay ahead would challenge them greatly. A silent prayer to Eru filtered through his mind as the two of them walked back to the boulders, prepared to rest and wait.

~ * ~

At dusk, Elladan summoned the horses using a whistle whose pitch was well beyond that which gentle folk could hear. Just a single short pip sufficed, one that would alert their steeds without catching the attention of undesirable beasts in the area. Chances were very good that a fast retreat from the fortress would be necessary, and that could not be accomplished on foot. They also had no way of knowing what condition Elrohir would be in when they found him.

While they waited for the horses, Elladan attached a scroll to the herald’s leg and sent it aloft towards Imladris. Their message to Lord Elrond had been brief:

_22 August  
Cameth Brin_

_Rhudaur has been overtaken by an unknown power. An Arnorian uprising is a very credible threat. Our target is within view. Reward the herald for services rendered._

With the very last sentence, their line of communication with Imladris had been effectively cut. It was a signal that the raven should not be sent back. If they — Elrohir included — did not return within a fortnight, very little would stop Imladris or Lothlórien from marching into Arnorian territory with deadly intentions.

Asfaloth and Haldir’s mare were the picture of equine majesty as they approached through the darkness. Their tails were held high in a display of pleasure, clearly eager to see their elvish friends. Their reunion was brief out of necessity. Within minutes, Elladan and Haldir secured their belongings and mounted up, heading north to circle around towards the west side of the vale.

They met no patrols, nor did they see any immediate signs of activity around the fortress at a distance, but Haldir was not fooled. Whoever held the reins in this Rhudaurian power play had yet to make an appearance, and that was most likely a deliberate ploy. With the heightened level of control in the area — and especially the fact that warriors were being rallied in large numbers — it was doubtful the fortress would be ignored.

They left the horses hidden behind a large outcropping of rock, and crossed the rest of the distance on foot. Ascending the hill proved to be precarious. The trail was plenty wide enough for carts, but it was completely exposed on the barren hillside. One would have to travel leagues out of the way in order to approach from the other side of the ridge; that was time Haldir and Elladan were not willing to waste. So, they moved slowly and stealthily, stopping often to monitor surroundings.

The trail eased over the top of the hill, leading down towards the entrance of the fortress, which was protected on three sides by the craggy landscape in which it had been built. There was only one way in and one way out, and they were standing upon it. Haldir and Elladan stayed close to the ground and watched. A few Hill-men guards stood in front of the massive entrance, aided only by the light of two small torches.

Nobody was expecting company. That, Haldir surmised, was either supreme overconfidence or supreme irresponsibility on someone’s part.

Scanning the lay of the area surrounding the stronghold, he spied what looked to be a recent rockslide that had fallen from the easternmost escarpment. That would prove an easy springboard to the upper wall on that side, provided the arrow slits were not manned by sharpshooters trained for night duty. Elves could move quickly and quietly, but they were not invisible.

Haldir eased back down the other side of the trail, out of view of the entrance, and signaled for Elladan to examine the same area he’d been looking at. While the younger elf did so, he pulled all his hair back into a single loosely tied braid, which he then pushed beneath his leather armor. The less light-colored target there was, the less chance there was of him getting hit.

Elladan touched his shoulder and nodded. A moment later, they set off, moving slowly along the top of the ridge. Fortunately for them, Ithil was asleep, her bright rays absent from the night sky. That made their downward approach towards the wall far easier. They skipped across the field of rubble nearly soundlessly, gaining speed for their ascent. At the last moment, they both pushed off the bottom of the wall and soared upward, each of them landing, crouched and facing opposite directions, atop the walkway on the upper wall. A single startled Hill-man guard turned around where he stood mere steps away. It was his last conscious action before Haldir separated his head from the rest of him.

They ran for the nearest turret, efficiently silencing three more Hill-men while rounding to the northern wall. The keep was their goal — it was the logical place to hold prisoners. It was also more likely to hold greater numbers of the enemy. Their chances of forestalling a raised alarm would be dramatically decreased.

Knowing this, they burst through the door there, quickly demolishing the small contingent of northerners caught unawares. Both of them were capable warriors with far more expertise and experience than any mortals, but their greatest advantage here was surprise. And thus far, it had worked perfectly. It was only a matter of time before their path of carnage was discovered, though. For that reason, the very next Hill-man they encountered was spared from death moments longer than the rest of his unfortunate allies — long enough to answer a whispered question by pointing in the direction of the cells while Elladan held a very small, very sharp dagger half-embedded in the man’s voice box.

Dispatching the Hill-man, they continued down the dimly lit corridor. They peered around the corner at the other end, pleased to see the hallway was empty, but loud voices could be heard from that direction. As Haldir and Elladan made their way along, they saw that part of the right wall opened up ahead. It was a balcony of sorts, overlooking a much larger chamber below by the sound of it. They slowed as they approached the opening, and Elladan signaled for him to keep watch while he had a look. 

Haldir glanced back the way they had come; there was no one following. He took a deep breath and turned back to Elladan... only to find the younger elf leaning with his back to the wall, staring at him with a shocked expression. Brows furrowed, Haldir tilted his head in question. Elladan merely pointed towards the open chamber.

Sliding past the younger elf, Haldir risked a quick look. What he saw made his blood run cold. There were Hill-men in the large room — lots of them, along with northerners and a sizable group of Melkor’s ill-begotten children... all looking rather comfortable in each other’s presence as they pored over maps, debated battle plans, and Eru only knew what else.

Haldir pulled back, feeling a drop of sweat trickle down his neck. “This is no Arnorian uprising,” he whispered, his mind awhirl over this new and very disturbing development.

“The Dúnedain would never align themselves with yrch!” Elladan whispered back.

Shaking his head, Haldir scrubbed at his face with one hand, as though the effort could somehow erase the image of what he’d just seen. “We need to get out of here. Quickly.”

Nodding his agreement, Elladan pointed down the corridor. Together, they kept low to the ground as they moved past the balcony. The next junction opened to a wider area, and just a bit further down on the left hand side stood a small cadre of guards minding a single door. That chamber either housed someone very important... or someone who was not meant to leave.

There was no time to consider consequences; Haldir and Elladan charged, weapons ready. The first guard went down easily, his surprised expression following him into death. The sharp cacophony of metal on metal lasted long minutes as they worked to take the others down, causing well enough noise to alert anyone within earshot that something was amiss. When the last of the guards finally succumbed to their combined assault, Elladan snapped a rusty key off the man’s belt and burst through the chamber door.

Elrohir was there, lying on the floor of the dank room. Haldir could tell with a single glance inside that the peredhel was far too thin, his complexion a sickly hue. Dark hair that should have been lustrous hung in grimy clumps, splayed across the cold stone floor, and his eyes stared vacantly ahead. Given the numerous bruises and wounds that marred his skin, many of them old, he knew Elrohir’s system was somehow compromised — probably by poison. It was the yrch’s favored means of subduing enemies they needed to keep alive for a time.

“Elladan?” Haldir whispered, quickly glancing up and down the corridor. “We don’t have much time.”

Kneeling, Elladan gathered his brother into his arms and just held him. It pained Haldir to witness such a heart-wrenching scene — brothers united under such horrible circumstances. Tears spilled down Elladan’s face as he rocked Elrohir, cradling the back of his head tenderly.

Haldir swallowed the lump in his throat, still monitoring their surroundings. “Elladan!”

His harsh whisper registered. Elladan looked to him and nodded. Together, they lifted an unconscious Elrohir and liberated him from his cell. Retracing their steps, they fled as fast as they could. When they reached the corridor with the balcony, Elladan crawled, the dead weight of his brother on his back slowing him dangerously. Through it all, Haldir kept watch, ready to defend the twins with his life if need be.

When they cleared the keep, Elladan hoisted his brother over his shoulder while Haldir ran ahead of them towards the turret. A string of Hill-men exited the door there, charging Haldir at full speed, but they were no match for his fury. A trail of body parts littered the causeway as he slashed and parried without conscious thought, dispatching several of them, bodily, over the side of the wall. He cleared the way to the eastern wall where they jumped off, Haldir wrapping his arms around both of them to help stabilize the extra weight.

They landed awkwardly, their extraordinary balance tested by the loose rubble beneath them, but regained their footing quickly, making a dash for the top of the ridge. As they reached the summit where the trail picked up, a loud, droning battle horn sounded somewhere from the depths of the stronghold. The enemy would be upon them in much greater numbers before long.

Haldir saw Elladan fumble at his belt pouch and, breathless as he was from carrying his brother, blow the whistle to summon the horses. Elvish steeds were trained for battle; they would not spook easily, even if an entire army of yrch were bearing down upon them, though Haldir certainly hoped that would not be the case this time. They continued their descent, running but ever cautious of their steps in light of the precious individual they safeguarded.

The sight of Asfaloth leading the way up the hill was one Haldir would not soon forget. The stallion came to a dead halt in front of them, and Haldir helped to get both Elladan and Elrohir settled in their saddle before mounting his own mare. Behind them, a dark mass of angry foes spilled over the top of the hill, many of them on horseback. It was a daunting scene that sent a chill down Haldir’s back. It had been a very long time since he’d faced such unfavorable odds.

They flew like the wind, down the hill and across the grassy vale towards the woodlands. The horses needed no prompting. Neither did their enemies, who pursued them with relentless abandon. The width of the vale was less than half a league, and yet it seemed to take an eternity to traverse the distance. The sure-footedness of their steeds guaranteed they could continue at full speed once the forest engulfed them. Haldir prayed their enemy’s horses were not as capable under the same circumstances. If they were, it would only be a matter of time before equine stamina gave way to exhaustion. Should Haldir and Elladan have to face such a large contingent of warriors on their own, this rescue would meet with a disastrous end.

The darkness of the woods welcomed them at long last. Haldir risked a glance behind them, and was pleased to see they had thoroughly outrun their pursuers. When the muted sound of crashing branches far behind them assaulted his ears, he knew it could not have been more than a few who still followed. They carried on at full speed, though, determined to put as much distance between them and this evil takeover that plagued Rhudaur. Word of this development needed to be spread to the far corners of Arda as quickly as possible.

An eerie, penetrating cry echoed through the woods all around them then, slicing through Haldir’s growing elation with a healthy dose of dread. That was no battle horn, and certainly not the whinny of any mount he had ever heard. He craned his neck, searching in all directions, but saw nothing. Elladan, who was but a few arms’ lengths away, turned to stare at him.

“What was that?” the younger elf yelled, just as another scream let loose, this time much closer than before.

Off to the left, Haldir caught a glimpse of something for just a moment — a dark shadow with flowing robes and a battle helmet, moving as though on horseback, only blacker... inkier than the darkness that already enveloped them. Haldir racked his mind, seeking to identify that one faint flicker of recognition that had crept into his heart. Where had he seen an image like that before?

“Haldir?”

And suddenly, he remembered. A long-forgotten memory — the picture of an ancient enemy whose name now slithered through his mind like the coldest of chills — faint and rippled in the waters of Lady Galadriel’s mirror, shown to him when he’d not yet reached his majority. It had been a test of sorts, or so he’d thought at the time, something all who declared their intentions to serve in the guard were made to endure. It hadn’t frightened him at the time. It had been just a vision, a _possible_ future... or possibly not. He’d been young and fearless and obstinate, so much like the twin peredil who had made his life miserable many centuries later. Apparently he’d witnessed part of his future after all.

In recognizing that, Haldir also recognized his duty, both to the Lady and to her family. He now understood the vision for what it was, and rather than fear, an odd sense of peace settled about him. Elladan and Elrohir would return to Imladris safely; he would make sure of it.

“HALDIR!” Elladan bellowed, his expression desperate.

Haldir looked over at him. “You must keep going!” he ordered. “Get your brother to safety!”

“What do you mean? I’ll not leave you!”

“If you do not, we will _all_ perish this night!” Haldir yelled back. He maneuvered his mare closer to the twins and, once in range, slapped the stallion’s hindquarters hard. “NORO LIM, ASFALOTH!”

Asfaloth redoubled his efforts, shooting ahead at breakneck speed while Elladan shouted back at him in anger. Haldir didn’t listen. He veered his mare to the left, determined to distract the thing that pursued them long enough for the others to escape. He unsheathed his sword, holding it at the ready, and when he spied the first glimpse of the spectre, its outline delineated against a blanket of hanging moonflowers, Haldir charged.

Jaw clenched, he swung hard at the approaching form, connecting solidly with its silver mail while dodging the black mace aimed in his direction. Almost immediately, the weight of Haldir’s sword felt different — lighter somehow. He slowed his horse in order to swing around for another run, sparing a glance down at his weapon... which, to his unmitigated horror, he realized was disintegrating, crumbling steadily from point to pommel until it simply was no more.

He was exposed. Vulnerable. The two small daggers he kept strapped to his legs were no match for a foe of this nature, and would likely suffer the same fate as his sword. Breathing heavily, he stopped his horse, his gaze flitting about wildly, trying to locate his adversary. Another of the creature’s chilling screams told him it was not far away, but it did remain out of sight.

Haldir dismounted, shooing the mare away. She could do nothing to help him now. He had to keep the creature occupied, prevent it from following the peredhil. He already knew and accepted that his life was forfeit. This was something every guard member acknowledged as a possibility before beginning their service. He was more than prepared for this.

He started forward, jogging towards the eerie sound still echoing through the trees. He’d gone no further than twenty paces when the soft sound of approaching footsteps from behind made him whirl, arms raised in a defensive posture.

“It’s just me,” Elladan whispered as he came to a stop. He looked winded but very alert.

“Why did you not obey?” Haldir asked. “Now we are both doomed.”

Elladan’s eyes were wild. “We will fight together! And win!”

Haldir took a step backward, shaking his head. “You do not understand. We will not survive this. Your weapon will disintegrate once it touches the creature, leaving you as defenseless as I am,” he finished, holding out his empty arms as proof.

“What is this thing?” Elladan hissed.

Haldir paused, unwilling to speak its name. That would solidify this nightmare, make it all too real. But Elladan deserved an answer all the same, and so he parted his lips and whispered, “Nazgúl.”

Elladan’s face contorted with disbelief, slowly shaking his head. “That cannot be,” he insisted. “They disappeared — dissipated — when Sauron was defeated.”

“And yet, one stands amongst us now,” Haldir murmured, his focus shifting past Elladan, fixing on the black form that slowly stalked its way towards the two of them on foot.

Following his gaze, Elladan turned around, all his muscles going completely lax at the terrifying sight of the Ringwraith. Haldir stepped forward until he was right next to the younger elf, their shoulders touching... a small measure of comfort in a moment so inconceivably horrifying that words alone would never suffice.

“Is your brother safe?” Haldir whispered, unable to look away from the inky blackness beneath the Nazgúl’s helmet.

“Aye,” Elladan managed to answer, his voice wavering. “Asfaloth will carry him home.”

Haldir’s fingers sought those of his companion, squeezing tightly. “Then let us be heroes.”

Hand in hand, they charged, spitting curses with all the breath they had left to spare. Elladan raised his sword as they ran, heedless of Haldir’s warning. If Mandos truly did await them, the loss of a single weapon would matter little.

So many thoughts and visions touched Haldir’s mind in those moments: a loving farewell to his brothers that they would never hear; the beautiful mellyrn in all their golden glory that had sheltered him and trusted him with their safety; the soft glow of Caras Galadhon at midnight, the ethereal voices of the choirs lulling lovers to sleep... It all swirled together, filling him with such joy, even as he struggled to fully comprehend that this was indeed the end. There was no fear, though. And he was not alone.

An explosion of light and sound directly in front of them suddenly knocked both Haldir and Elladan off their feet and sent them flying backwards into the underbrush. Dazed, Haldir shook his head, pulling himself out of the brambles. What he saw left him utterly speechless for the first time in his life. A portal had been torn open, mid-air, in the space between them and the Ringwraith. In the middle of that portal, the visage of Lady Galadriel herself sprang forth, both beautiful and terrifying all at once. Reaching forward with one arm, she began to speak, her voice a harsh whisper of ancient words that were completely unknown to him. All around the Ringwraith, the air began to swirl, causing its robes to billow. It was clearly surprised by this turn of events. Each time it tried to move forward to attack, a gust of wind pushed it back, tugging ever more insistently at its accouterments. Within minutes, the creature was completely incapacitated, lifted off the ground and spun until each and every article of clothing, armor, and weaponry had been pulled from its true formless manifestation, forcing it to retreat back to whatever hellish pit served as its home.

As quickly as it had appeared, the portal closed and she was gone, save for a single whisper that enveloped both of them in its warmth:

_Come home_.

Haldir glanced at his companion, who wore the same expression of utter disbelief. Elladan kept blinking, staring at the air where his grandmother had been moments before. Finally, the younger elf met his gaze.

“Did you...” Elladan began, pointing towards the empty space. “Did you know she could do that?”

Laughter that welled up all the way from the tips of his toes bubbled forth as Haldir shook his head. “I hadn’t a clue.”

The two of them fell back onto the forest floor, entertaining all the trees and nocturnal animals with their giddiness. There was no shame in the tears that fell that night, tears of relief and joy. They lay there a very long time, allowing their bodies and hearts the chance to enjoy the pleasure of simply being alive. And when they felt refreshed enough, they gathered themselves together and went in search of Haldir’s mare.

~ * ~

Even at full speed, it still took nearly three days for them to reach Imladris. When they crossed the bridge, feeling more than a little worn and battered, they were greeted with rousing cheers of welcome. Elrohir, they soon discovered, had arrived the day before, partially conscious and clinging tightly to Asfaloth. Elladan, of course, quickly took his leave to be with his family.

In Lord Elrond’s absence, Haldir gave his full report to Lord Glorfindel. The situation in Rhudaur was grave, magnified tenfold by the reappearance of the Nazgúl. Now it was up to the leaders of the Free Peoples to decide what to do next. After offering his personal gratitude for bringing the twins home safely, Glorfindel informed him that, per Lady Galadriel, Haldir was to take whatever time he needed to recuperate before returning to the Golden Wood. Despite his devotion to Lothlórien, the thought of an extended rest was quite appealing.

Haldir felt drained, completely sapped of all energy. He wanted to be clean. He also needed sleep, something that had been in short supply as they’d rushed to arrive back to Imladris. Instead of seeking those things, he found that his legs carried him to the House of Healing, where he sat in the antechamber and waited. Moments stretched into candlemarks, Arnor’s rays sinking ever closer to the horizon.

He wasn’t even certain how long he’d been waiting there when the inner door finally opened. Elladan emerged, looking haggard. Haldir stood, offering him a weary smile.

“I’ve been summarily dismissed,” Elladan told him.

“And your brother?”

“Elrohir is well. Thanks to Ada, he is well past the danger of the venom. Rest and tender care will restore him in short order.”

Haldir closed his eyes against the wash of relief he felt. “This is very good news.”

Elladan took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. The dark circles beneath his eyes spoke of the depth of his weariness. The burden the younger elf had carried had been far greater than Haldir could even imagine. And at one point, he’d only added to that with his own selfishness...

Crossing the chamber, Elladan gently placed his palm above Haldir’s heart, a profound gesture that caught him by surprise. “I am so very grateful you were with me, Haldir. I could never have brought my brother home on my own. I am in your debt.”

Haldir covered his companion’s hand with his own, interlacing their fingers. “That you and Elrohir are alive and well is repayment enough, my friend.”

Keen grey eyes studied him intently, the beginnings of a grin touching the corners of Elladan’s lips. This time, Haldir relished in the fidgety feeling that gave him instead of trying to repress it.

“I am in need of a bath and a bed,” Elladan murmured.

Haldir cocked a brow. “Indeed.”

The younger elf’s grin widened. “I would be most honored if you would join me, Haldir o Lórien.”

This time, there was no hesitation on his part. None at all. Smiling, Haldir turned towards the door, eagerly pulling Elladan with him.

~ * ~ finis ~ * ~

**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations**  
>  peredhel/peredhil = half-elf/half-elves  
> Mae govannen = ‘well met’ or ‘welcome’  
> Suilad = greetings  
> Ada = dad  
> ion nín = my son  
> Anor = the sun  
> Ethuil = spring  
> Iavas = autumn  
> Gwirith = April  
> Arda = the world  
> Daro = stop/halt  
> Ithil = the moon  
> Yrch = orcs  
> “Noro lim, Asfaloth!” = “Run fast (swift), Asfaloth!”
> 
> ~~~~~~  
>  **Story Prompt** :
> 
> Rating up to = R
> 
> Requested pairing = Suggested pairings: Haldir/Aragorn; Haldir/Legolas; Haldir/Elladan or Elrohir; Beleg/Mablung; Beleg/Turin; Gwindor/Turin; Annael/Tuor; Galadriel/Tauriel (just for fun; I’d be curious to see how you could plausibly spin it so it could work in-canon-ish).
> 
> Story elements = I love a good, dark action/adventure story with a sliver of disguise/espionage or wry humor thrown in for good measure and a plot that sets our heroes against massive odds. Capable, competent characters with real flaws or haunted by failures are fun. Plausible character motivation / development. Realistic dialogue. Emotional punch. Slow reveals (e.g attractions, secrets…). Angst is my bread and butter, but happy (or at least peaceful, even if unresolved) endings are preferred.
> 
> I appreciate themes of Honor/Loyalty/Sacrifice/Bravery. Blood brotherhood/the idea that soldiers in the field depend on and trust the (wo)man at their side more than their brother in the thick of things. Banter that hides real feelings. Intimacy (not necessarily sexual). Imperfect elves. Book canon. Rescues. Hurt/Comfort. Alcohol.
> 
> Go for the R rating if you feel the story needs it, but I don’t need sex, just a good story. Feel free to take some, all, or none of the elements above.
> 
> Optional for major brownie points: A cameo of Warrior!Galadriel. I adore Cate Blanchett, but the poor woman needed some decent riding leathers and boots in the Hobbit movies, just saying.  
> ~~~~~~~~


End file.
